The next morning, you arrive at Corporativo Monte Real with your stomach tied in knots so tight it feels like somebody cinched a rope around your ribs overnight.
You barely sleep after Alejandro Villaseñor leaves your house. Every time you close your eyes, you see him standing in your doorway with polished shoes in the dust and that strange look on his face, not disgust, not pity, but something worse because it is harder to defend against. Respect. Real respect can feel more dangerous than cruelty when you have spent most of your life learning how to survive contempt. Contempt is predictable. Respect makes you hope, and hope has sharp teeth.
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